Tears Of Pearls
by purplepagoda
Summary: A typical crime scene turns out to be a little more than usual. What happens when the victim is someone from Kensi's past? Will she come clean with her team about how she knows the victim, or will she keep them in the dark? What happens when things left in the dark come to the light?
1. Chapter 1

She lies in bed next to her partner. His messy hair has meshed with his pillow, and he is sawing logs. She rolls onto her side, exhaling. She wonders if sleep will come anytime soon. As she stares at the red digits from her alarm clock, she knows sleep won't come easily. Some nights she can't seem to shove the demons that haunt her back to where they came from. Her heart, and her mind races as the ceiling fan whirs overhead. She prays for sleep, but it doesn't come easily.

When she awakens the following morning her sleep has been short, and fitful. She acquires an exceptionally large cup of coffee, and heads off to work. She expects that today will be like any other. She anticipates flying bullets, and rushes of adrenaline. She has barely placed her messenger bag on the floor when Eric whistles, and the team is called into ops. As they are briefed on a case she finds a nagging feeling at the pit of her stomach.

* * *

On the way to the scene she nearly turns onto the wrong street. Eventually they arrive at the scene, and she pulls onto the curb. She reaches for the keys, and feels her partner's eyes on her. She turns to face him.

"Are you okay?" He asks her.

"Fine," she nods.

"You just seem distracted," he points out.

"Just tired," she stretches the truth, as she exits the vehicle.

She steps onto the street, and surveys the scene before her. It is a quiet suburban neighborhood. She can hear kids at the intersection racing towards the school bus. She looks around, and finds neighbor's out on their lawns, staring at the body lying in the street. She moves forward, stopping between Deeks, and Hanna. She casts her eyes in a downward trajectory.

"Forty two year old marine colonel," Sam begins reading the information on his phone sent by Nell from OPS.

"Kevin Grant," Kensi continues as she stares at the face of the murdered marine.

All eyes fall on her, as she stares at the victim without a hint of emotion.

Deeks clears his throat, "You know him?"

"He tried to recruit me," she admits.

"Into the Marines?" Sam questions.

"It was a long time ago, and I wasn't old enough to join."

"He was working with the department of justice in a classified operation. As Nell mentioned we aren't allowed any information on the matter other than that."

Kensi stares at the bullet wound to Kevin's forehead. He is dressed casually in a pair of sweatpants, and a green t-shirt.

"Kensi, Deeks, you take that side of the street, and Callen I will take this one. This happened at six forty six this morning. There were people out walking their dogs, collecting the newspaper, and kids headed to the bus stop. Witnesses reported seeing him come out for his morning run. They heard a shot, and he fell to the ground. He lives over there," Sam points to the house behind him, "and his brother lives two doors down."

Kensi feels her heart skip a beat. Sam, and Callen turn towards their side of the street. She turns towards her partner. Deeks shoots her a look.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she nods, as she follows him to the first house.

They collect witness statements, and find that no one can give enough detail regarding the location of the shooter. As they exit the last house, a car moves towards the crime scene tape. The entire block is blocked off with yellow crime scene tape. A grey sedan honks the horn at the agents. Kensi, and Deeks move towards the end of the street, towards the car.

Kensi ducks under the tape, and approaches the vehicle. The driver rolls down the window. A teenaged boy with hair cropped close to his scalp looks up at her.

"Excuse me, ma'am, what is going on?"

"Who are you?"

"I live at the other end of the street. My dad called me, and told me to pick up my brother from the sitter, and bring him home. I had just gotten to school. He is at work. He said he would meet me at home."

Kensi looks in the back, and sees a bright eyed elementary school aged boy who smirks at her from the backseat.

"You can't drive down the street. If you go to the other end of the street you can try to park there, and I'll escort you to your house."

"My dad said something happened to the neighbor."

"Go around to the other side of the street," she instructs him.

He nods. She meets him at the other end of the street. She escorts the two boys to their front door. The door opens, and their father stands inside. She smiles at the stranger.

"I just got home. When I heard I wanted them to come home. I am going to take them to their grandmother's he explains."

"What is your name?"

"Todd Smith," the man answers.

"We aren't sure what happened here, or who the target was."

"I would just feel better if we left the neighborhood until this is cleared up."

"I understand."

* * *

Hours later they are deep into their investigation. The team is sitting at their desks comparing witness testimony.

"I spoke with Kevin's brother, Michael. Michael lives a few doors down, and is a former marine. He currently works as an accountant. He said that his son was in their driveway, getting ready to go to school when it happened. He didn't want his son to be home when the police arrived, so he sent him to school. He did agree to let us talk to him when he gets home from school," Sam explains.

"That sounds far more promising as a lead, than any of the people we talked to," Deeks admits.

"Callen and I are going to head over to the department of justice to do a little bit of digging."

"As yourselves?" Deeks queries.

"No," he shakes his head, "As Jack," he points to Callen, "the janitor, and Jim the IT guy. Kensi I want you to go through the crime scene photos with Nell, and see where you think the sniper could have been…"

Kensi interrupts him, "I already reviewed the crime scene photos with Nell."

"Anything stick out to you?"

"Yeah," she nods, "There was a tree at the end of the street."

"There was a playground," Deeks recalls.

"Kensi you should go back to the scene and scope it out. Take Deeks, and see if it pans out. Head over to Michael Grant's house when the son gets home, and find out what he knows."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam, and Callen vacate their seats. Kensi follows suit. She tosses Deeks the keys.

"I'll be out in a minute," she insists. He nods in agreement, and takes the keys. She manages to catch Callen, and Sam in the hallway.

"I think it would be better if you spoke to the son," Kensi tells Sam.

Sam furrows his brow as he studies her facial expression. He hands Callen his keys. "G, pull the car up front. I'll meet you in a second."

"Okay," he nods in agreement, noting Kensi's peculiar behavior.

"Kensi, what's going on? Why don't you want to interview the son? How well did you know Kevin?"

"I didn't know Kevin that well," she admits.

"His brother is closer to your age," he realizes, "Kensi is there something that you aren't telling me?"

"I would just feel a lot more comfortable if you did it," she tells him.

"I know that you have a reason, and I am going to respect that. I'll talk to him," he agrees.

She exits the car, and her partner follows her onto the playground. Today the playground is empty. She moves towards the tree at the edge of the playground. She spins around, and looks back at the street. Deeks breaks the silence.

"What are you thinking?"

"This would be a good vantage point," she responds, showing no emotion.

"You want a boost?" He quizzes, as she turns to examine the tree.

She furrows her brow in disbelief, "I think I can climb a tree."

"Suit yourself," he takes a step back.

She carefully hoists herself into the tree. She shifts into sniper mode. Approximately twelve feet off the ground she stops. She touches the tree branch, and finds some missing bark. She looks down at her partner.

"This was the sniper nest," she reveals.

"Any casings?"

"All I have is some missing tree bark," she informs him.

As she climbs down the tree Marty glances at his watch. As her feet collide with the ground she hears his stomach growl.

"The kid won't be home until two forty five. We have time to grab some lunch before he gets home."

"Sam is going to interview him."

Deeks furrows his brow, "That doesn't make any sense. We're already here."

She shrugs, "We should really get back to work," she reaches for the car door.

He steps between her and the car. "Why is Sam interviewing the kid? He is a teenager he is going to be far more forthcoming to you, than he will Sam."

"Does it matter?"

"It does if it affects the outcome of the interview. You should be the one to interview the kid."

"The kid has a name!" She growls.

He pulls out his phone to scroll through his notes.

"It's Kane," she answers.

He furrows his brow, "How do you know that? Nell literally just sent us the text. What is going on here? How well did you know this guy?"

Before she can answer her phone rings. She pulls the phone out of her pocket, and presses it to her ear.

* * *

That night they are finally able to solve the case. The teenager's interview yields a description matching that of Kevin's former co-worker. In the end they find out that the former sniper was passed up for a promotion, while Kevin was granted one, despite similar credentials. Sam, and Callen have already headed out. Deeks packs up his stuff, and pulls the car keys out of his pocket.

"Kensi, you ready?"

"I'll meet you at home. I need to finish some paperwork."

"Do you want me to order something?"

"Go ahead and eat, I am going to be a while," she admits.

He nods, grabbing his belongings. He heads out of the bullpen. Kensi sits in silence, staring at the surface of her desk. She instinctively looks up, getting the sense that someone is looking at her.

"Miss Blye what are you still doing here?"

"Paperwork," she fibs.

"You already turned in your paperwork. What is on your mind?"

"Nothing," she insists.

"Someone mentioned that you knew the victim."

"I did."

"Were you close?"

"No. I only met him twice."

"And yet you recognized him. Why didn't you want to interview his nephew?"

"Hetty, please."

"You knew the victim's brother?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't know that Michael lived so close. I definitely didn't know that his son witnessed Kevin's murder."

"He wants to speak to you."

She furrows her brow, "Who, Michael?"

"Michael saw you at the crime scene this morning. He called here."

"Why?"

"He asked me to give you his number."

"Hetty…"

"He said that it was important," she informs Kensi, as she slips the number into her hand.

She nods, and Hetty leaves the room.


	3. Chapter 3

She pulls onto a suburban street, pulling onto the curb. She puts the car into park, and contemplates what to do next. She turns off the lights. Part of her wants to drive away, and never return. The other part of her begs her to get out of the car, and go up to the house to her right. Tears form in her eyes as she considers her next move. She reaches for the keys, and the engine turns over. She fights tears the entire way home. She pulls into her driveway, and exits her vehicle. She heads into her house, and finds Deeks sitting on the couch eating Ramen. He looks up at her, and flips off the TV. She takes a seat next to him, and the tears begin to fall like rain. He places his half eaten bowl of pasta on the coffee table. He reaches forward, and pulls her close.

"It's okay," he reassures her.

The crying does not stop. For the next several moments the tears continue to fall from her eyes. The liquid rolls down her cheeks. As he holds onto her, her head is pressed against his shoulder. His t-shirt becomes increasingly wetter with every passing moment. Eventually she lets go of him. He wipes the tears from her face.

"Tell me what's really going on here."

"It's complicated."

"I don't care," he points out.

"You will," she argues.

"Tell me."

"Okay," she nods in agreement.

* * *

 _She walks past the recruiter's office for the third time today. She finds herself daydreaming of a life different than the one she leads. She is so caught up in her daydream that she doesn't look up as she walks, or hear the footsteps coming towards her. She smacks into a tall handsome Marine in uniform. She blushes, "I'm sorry." She glances at his nametag. It reads GRANT. She studies his insignia's. He is older than she is, with dark hair, and dark eyes._

 _"What's your name?" He questions._

 _"Kensi," she answers, suddenly feeling subconscious._

 _"You have been walking around out here all day. Is there something I can interest you in?"_

 _"No, sir," she breaks eye contact._

 _"Kensi, my name is Kevin," he extends a hand._

 _She looks at him in confusion._

 _"I am off the clock. How old are you?"_

 _She simply shrugs._

 _"Are you old enough to be recruited?"_

 _"No," she shakes her head. She wears a backpack. Her jeans are tattered, and she has dark circles under her eyes._

 _"How old are you? You know what, it doesn't matter. I have seen you around here the past few days. You are always camped out on that park bench," he points past her, "Kensi when was the last time you had a good meal, and a hot shower?"_

 _"I," she hesitates._

 _"That's what I thought. How would you like a good meal, and a hot shower?"_

 _"I should really go," she tells him._

 _"I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her, "My brother is waiting at home. He just got back from boot camp a while back, and suddenly he only knows how to cook for an army. He isn't a great cook, but he's making chicken, which is pretty hard to screw up. Why don't you come over, and have a bite to eat? You can crash on the couch if you want."_

 _"I don't want to bother anyone."_

 _"It's no bother," he insists._

 _Hours later she finds herself with a full belly, and cleanly showered. She sits at the end of the couch. She hears footsteps, and finds Michael moving towards her. He carries a blanket, and a pillow._

 _"Get up," he tells her._

 _She vacates her seat on the couch, as he proceeds to prepare the couch._

 _"Thanks," she responds._

 _"Guests don't sleep on the couch," he tells her, "You can have my rack."_

 _"You don't have to do that," she insists._

 _"I do. Let me show you."_

 _She follows him down the hall. He leads her into the room. She finds a twin bed with fresh linen, and hospital corners. She takes a seat on the bed._

 _"You don't have to do this. I can't repay you."_

 _He grins, "Sure you can."_

 _"How?"_

 _"Tell me why you keep hanging out in front of the recruitment office?"_

 _She shrugs, "I guess I just always thought I would enlist."_

 _"I graduated high school at seventeen. I enlisted before my eighteenth birthday. I am barely an adult, and I just got orders that I'm going overseas. Why would you want to do that?"_

 _"I always have," she answers._

* * *

"How long did you stay with them?"

"A couple of weeks. Michael shipped out, and Kevin got orders the next day. They offered to let me stay, but I couldn't."

"I still don't understand," he admits.

"It was shortly after my dad died. I was alone, and…" she trails off.

"And? You didn't want to see him, or what?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Please don't shut me out," he begs.

"He has moved on with his life."

"It's just him, and his kids. His wife died, and he is raising his son, and daughter on his own. His brother moved closer, so he and his wife could help him out. He probably would have welcomed seeing a familiar face. He just lost his brother."

She shakes her head, "He wouldn't have wanted to see me."

"How do you know that?"

"You know what," she vacates her seat, "It doesn't matter."


	4. Chapter 4

She vacates her seat on the couch, turning to leave the room. His fingers wrap around her wrist. He interrupts her escape in a soft tone.

"Whoa! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a shower," she answers him.

He scrutinizes her facial expression, as she stands across from him, avoiding eye contact.

"Kensi what is going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"Deeks, please," she begs.

"Talk to me," he implores.

"I can't," she responds.

"Why not?" He presses.

"I'm not ready," she answers simply.

He nods in understanding, "Okay," and he lets her walk away.

She tosses, and turns that night, and she can't sleep. In fear that she is going to wake her bed partner she vacates the bed, and heads down the stairs. She crawls onto the couch. She's just gotten comfortable when her phone starts to vibrate on the coffee table. She stretches her arm out, and swipes the phone off the table. She presses the mobile device to her ear.

"Hello," she answers sleepily. She hears breathing, but the party on the other end doesn't respond. "Hello? Is anyone there?" The phone line suddenly goes dead. She returns the phone to its resting place, and chalks it up to a prank call. She situates herself on the couch once again. Sleep is fleeting. She dozes off for little more than an hour. She gets up, and pulls on some clothes. She laces up her sneakers, and exits the house.

She secures her earbuds into her ears, and begins down the pavement. The soles of her tennis shoes pound against the sidewalk. Her heart beat increases, but her pace doesn't change. Sweat begins to bead on her forehead, but it doesn't deter her. She listens to the random assortment of songs as she runs. The music drowns out her thoughts, until on sneaks past. _Always running,_ she chides herself. She shakes the thought from her head, and turns a street corner.

When she returns home Deeks is still not awake. She showers, and gets dressed for the day. She climbs into the car, and pulls away from the house. She feels as if she is driving aimlessly, but as she rounds a street corner she realizes that she's not. She parks against the curb, but she can't find the courage to get out of the car. She just stares at the grey house to her right. The front porch light is on, and a light inside the house is on. She exhales, and reaches for her keys, with every intention of driving away. Before she can manage to turn the engine over knuckles wrap against her window. She turns to her left, and finds a familiar face staring at her. She unlocks the door, and he walks around the front of her car. He climbs into the passenger's seat. She looks over at the familiar face, who is clad in his running gear. Her mouth suddenly feels dry, and her heart rate increases.

He breaks the silence, "Is this where you tell me you were just in the neighborhood? He glances at his watch, at five thirty on a Saturday morning?"

"I only live about ten minutes away," she admits. She studies him closely. He looks older than she remembers, but little else has changed. His sandy color hair shows a few strands of grey around the temples. His hair is cropped close to his scalp, and he is cleanly shaven. He wears a t-shirt, and a pair of athletic shorts. His t-shirt is sweat stained. He stares back at her with bright blue eyes.

He looks over at her, and grins, "I was surprised to see you yesterday," he admits.

"I am so sorry about Kevin," she offers condolences.

"I have always wondered about you," he reveals.

"You're not the only one," she replies.

"I would imagine that I'm not. Kensi we have both grown up a lot since we first met. Why didn't you call?"

She shrugs, "Does it matter?"

"I know that you have the resources to find whoever you want to."

"I do," she nods.

"So why didn't you?"

She exhales, "I thought that it was better this way."

"Better for who? You just disappeared into thin air."

She shakes her head, "Trust me, it was better."

"You don't know that."

"I don't really know what to say," she admits.

"Time marches on, but what you leave behind doesn't stay where you left it."

"Shouldn't you get inside? Won't your family miss you?"

"The kids are fine, they know I am out for a run. My daughter prefers that I stay out of the house in the early morning hours."

"Why?"

"She's nine, and if I'm around when she gets up she has to eat oatmeal for breakfast."

"And if you're not?"

"Her brother will make chocolate chip pancakes. He can't make them when I am around, or I will locate his chocolate chip hiding place, and put a kibosh on the entire operation."

"You don't permit them to eat chocolate chips?"

He cocks an eyebrow, "Not for breakfast. I am a single dad, but that doesn't mean that my house is lawless. They don't run the place."

"Sounds like Alcatraz."

"Hardly," he assures her.

"Where is…"

"I got married about fifteen years ago. I had just left the Marine Corp, and Emily was getting ready to ship out. Our daughter, Mariah is nine. We both gave up the lifestyle, but in the end it didn't really matter. Two years ago Emily was coming home from work, and she got t-boned in an intersection."

"I am so sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay. What about you, Miss Federal Agent?"

She shrugs, "Nothing too exciting."

"Married?"

"I should get home," she retreats.

"Come inside," he tells her.

She furrows her brow, trying to read his facial expression. She breaks eye contact. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"You disappeared into thin air all of those years ago, and I never thought that I would ever see you again. I was in the middle of some dusty, bleak corner of the world when I got word that my brother had seen you, and that you were okay. Before I could get home you were gone again. You disappeared, and I had absolutely no idea where you went."

"It doesn't matter."

"We were just kids then. If you think that I hold it against you, I don't. I never have. You know that, right?"


	5. Chapter 5

"I shouldn't be here," she insists.

He touches her arm, "You should come inside."

"That isn't necessary," she rebuts.

He nods, as if he understands. He reaches into the pocket of his shorts, and pulls out his phone. He pops the case off, and pulls something out from between the case and the phone. He places the item on the console between them. He turns towards her.

"You have my number. The door is always open, Kensi." He grabs the door handle, and pushes the door open. He exits the vehicle, and heads towards the house. She locks the door, and sits in silence for several moments. She turns to her right, and lifts the item off the surface of the console. She examines the item. It nearly brings her to tears. She tucks it into the pocket of her pants.

* * *

 _December 26_ _th_ _, 1998_

 _She stands outside the recruiter's office. This is the first time she has returned since a kind stranger offered a warm meal, and a bed to sleep in. She peers in the door, and sees a familiar face inside. The air is cool as evening approaches. The doors open, and a group of young men exits the office. She chews on her thumbnail nervously as she pulls the door open. She enters the office to find Kevin sitting alone in the office. He makes eye contact, and rises to greet her. She stops in front of his desk. He waits for her to break the silence, but she doesn't. She hands him a package, and turns to leave. He moves towards the door, to follow her. She bolts out the door, and runs. The Chuck Taylor's on her feet are held together with duct tape. The soles are worn, and the canvas is dirty. She races several blocks before she slows down. She ducks into an empty building, and hopes that she hasn't been followed._

* * *

She enters her the modest domicile that she shares with her boyfriend, and partner. She closes the door, and the smell of food permeates through the house. She enters the kitchen, and finds Deeks making an omelet. She takes a seat on the barstool. He looks up at her, and grins. He places a plate in front of her with an omelet on it. He makes eye contact with her.

"You okay?"

"Sure," she answers, as he hands her a fork.

He tilts his head, and cocks an eyebrow, "You're being weird."

"You should eat before your food gets cold," she responds, dodging the question.

"Hold up, what's going on?"

"Please drop it," she implores him.

"Kensi I want to be supportive here, but you're making it hard. I need more information on what's going on."

"Please trust me. You don't want to know."

"Of course I do," he argues.

"Deeks, sometimes it is better if you don't know."

"Name one example," he replies.

"Last week when I took Monty for his walk we didn't actually walk. We waited until you left, and I took him for ice cream."

"You fed him ice cream?"

"Don't be ridiculous, he had a hamburger."

"You know he is not supposed to eat people food!"

"That is why I didn't tell you."

"It's just that he's my baby," he explains.

"Well this is a lot bigger than that," she reveals.

"So just tell me. Why won't you tell me?"

She breaks eye contact, and shifts her glance to her plate. "What if you change your mind about us?"

"I wouldn't do that," he insists.

"You don't know what this is about."

"Kensi, nothing is going to change between us. Everyone has a past."

"I live here. We still have to work together."

He furrows his brow, "You're afraid that whatever it is you have to say is going to cause us to break up?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"We have been through so much. What would possibly make you think that?"

"This will make you see me differently. I can't imagine it will be easy to digest. I don't even like to think about it."

"Kensi what are we talking about, here?"

She exhales, and shifts her eyes towards his face. Her heart beat quickens, and her stomach begins doing backflips. She wonders how he will react to a truth that most days she can't even face. She reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a picture. She places the picture on the counter, and slides it towards him. He looks down, and finds a school picture in front of him. He shakes his head as he removes the picture from the counter. He studies the picture of the teenager, and shrugs. He makes eye contact with Kensi.

"Isn't this the kid that Sam interviewed?"

"Yes," she nods.

"The kid that you didn't want to interview?" He clarifies.

"Yes."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"I didn't feel comfortable interviewing Kane."

"Because?"

"I told you that I knew Kevin."

"Yes."

"I knew his brother too."

"Better?" He doesn't mince words.

"Definitely," she confirms.

"So you were involved with Michael, when you were younger? Why is that such a big deal? We all have exes, I know that I have my fair share," he rambles.

"I was young, and he was some cute guy in a uniform."

"Kensi, it happens. Why are you being so hard on yourself? You thought that it would be awkward to interview his kid? I mean I don't know your history, but I doubt that he would have cared. Ultimately we were trying to find his brother's killer. I think he would have put differences aside."

"This isn't about Michael," she clarifies.

"I don't understand. Are you suddenly afraid of teenage boys? I have seen you incapacitate two hundred and fifty pound men."

She points to the picture, "Just this one."


	6. Chapter 6

The silence completely surrounds them. Kensi refuses to reinitiate eye contact. Deeks stares at her with his big blue eyes. Kensi stares at her plate, but doesn't offer to reach for her fork. Her body language tells him she is in retreat mode. Her head is bowed as if she is praying, but he isn't entirely certain. He exhales, and tries to piece together the information that he knows. He suddenly realizes that there is still a school picture in his hand. He casts his eyes downward. He finds a school picture in his palm. A teenaged boy stares up at him with sapphire blue eyes. He grins at the photographer revealing a toothy white smile. His wavy hair is dark brown, it is neatly trimmed. He studies his facial features, and tries to discern what Kensi is telling him.

"What are you telling me? Why wouldn't you want to talk to this kid, he doesn't look scary. He looks like any other seventeen year old boy."

"Not to me."

He looks at the picture again, and then he turns to Kensi, whose eyes stare up at him. He sees a look of guilt, and fear as she looks at him.

"Kens? What is the real reason that you didn't want to talk to him?"

She exhales, "I didn't want to compromise our investigation."

"How would you do that?"

"Eventually the case is going to go to trial, and my name is not the one that can be on an interview with that eye witness. Defense attorneys are ruthless."

"You think that the fact that you dated his father however many years ago would be brought up?"

"Not directly."

"Why would they find any fault with you interviewing this kid? Do you know him? I mean who is he?"

The tears begin to form in her eyes, as the room falls silent. She listens to the clock on the wall tick, as Deeks attempts to control his breathing. He formulates his next question very carefully. He doesn't want her to feel as if he is interrogating her, and just shut down. He fears that it is too late, and she has already activated her impenetrable armor.

"Kensi how long ago did you meet Michael Grant?" He probes.

"About eighteen years ago," she feels her palms beginning to sweat. She doesn't try to hide her physiological reaction. She knows that there is only one way for this conversation to end. She has harbored the painful truth deep inside of her for far too long.

"What happened to his son's mother?"

She swallows hard, "She left him."

"Michael said that he was deployed when his son was born."

"He was," she confirms.

"Were you there?"

She doesn't answer, she only meets his gaze. He places the picture on the counter, in front of her. He pushes the plate aside. He points to the image in front of her.

"Kensi," he says softly, "Who is this?"

"My son," she whispers as the tears break free from her eyes. The tears fall down her cheeks, and onto her chin, landing on her shirt. She doesn't make any attempt to stop them. He looks at her as the walls fall down around her. She turns her body away from the counter. She slides off the stool onto the floor. She attempts to leave, but she finds him standing in front of her. She can't will herself to make eye contact. She is afraid to look up, and read his facial expression, so she stares at the kitchen tile instead. She waits for further questions, or yelling. His arms reach out, and pull her in. He holds her close to his chest, and she tucks her chin against his shoulder. Her arms move from her sides, and hold onto him, as if she is holding on for dear life. He softly kisses her forehead. Eventually he lets go, and she takes a step back.

"I should go," she tells him with a tear stained face.

"Go? Where would you go? This is your home," he wipes the tears from her face with the tail of his t-shirt.

"I am so sorry."

"Are you okay?"

She shakes her head, "No."

He leads her out of the kitchen into the living room. She takes a seat on the couch, next to him. She stares at him willing him to say something.

"I am sure that you need some time to process this. I think I am just going to go for a drive."

"You don't have to run, Kensi."

"I…"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I have never told anyone," she admits, "Most days I try to pretend that it never happened. I try to block it out. If I don't I find myself consumed with guilt, and shame. I mean what kind of person could just walk away? What kind of monster would do that?"

"This kid is a teenager, so that makes you, how old?"

"Not old enough," she answers.

"Sixteen?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"I can imagine that you were young, alone, and scared."


	7. Chapter 7

_She sits on the beach as the sun comes up. The smell of sand, and salt water is overwhelming. Suddenly she feels as if she isn't going to be able to keep the previous day's food down. She grabs her backpack, and races off the sand. She manages to make it to a trash can before she empties the contents of her stomach. Luckily her hair is already secured in a ponytail. She makes the two and a half mile trek to the local YMCA, but the nausea doesn't subside. She heads into the bathroom, and pulls out her toothbrush. She brushes, and swishes with water until the taste of stomach contents dissipates. She hops in the shower, and quickly changes into clean clothes. She checks her watch as she puts her shoes back on. Every single smell is unbearable as she heads towards the exit. The smell of body odor seems completely overwhelming. She swallows hard, but nearly tosses her cookies again. She shakes off the feeling, and grabs a drink out of the water fountain._

 _An hour later she finally arrives at her destination. She heads into the banquet hall, and secures her belongings in a locker in the locker room. She is the first one to arrive, as per usual. A familiar face enters the locker room. It is a twenty something woman named Sara. She enters the locker room, and finds Kensi sitting on the bench. She stows her belongings in the locker next to Kensi's. She takes a seat next to her as she slips on her vest._

" _Kensi, are you feeling okay, you look pale."_

" _I'm fine," she insists._

" _Did you eat breakfast this morning? I have some extra cereal in my bag. The girls have informed me that they don't like raisin bran," she fibs._

" _I'm not hungry," she answers. For once she doesn't actually feel hungry. She feels guilty knowing that Sara is a single mom to two daughters who works two jobs, barely making ends meet, who buys an extra box of cereal every week, just to feed her._

" _What's wrong?"_

" _I just feel kind of crummy, I am sure it will pass."_

" _You didn't eat dinner last night," she points out._

" _I wasn't feeling hungry."_

" _It is the one perk of being a cater waitress, we get to eat whatever extra food there is. What's going on with you?"_

" _I feel sick," she admits, "Maybe it was something I ate."_

" _What did you eat yesterday?" Sara questions._

 _She shrugs, "I had a peanut butter sandwich, and some crackers at lunchtime."_

 _She furrows her brow, "How long have you been feeling sick?"_

" _I don't know the past week, or two, I guess. This morning was the first time that I actually got sick. I still feel like I am going to puke."_

" _You're not pregnant, are you?"_

 _Her cheeks turn red, "What?! No!"_

" _Are you sure?"_

 _Her heart sinks, "No," her voice cracks._

 _A few hours later she has finished with her catering gig. She heads into the drugstore, around the corner. When she is finished collecting the necessary items she heads to the register. She pulls the last bit of money that she has out of her pocket until the end of the week when she gets paid. She places the items on the counter. The clerk rings up the items, and places them in the bag. Kensi hands her the money. The cashier hands her seventy three cents in change. Kensi exits the drugs store, and heads down the block. She empties the contents of the paper bag, placing each item into her backpack. She places a box of crackers, a jar of peanut butter, and a can of pears into her bag. She studies the final item, and tosses it into her bag too. She heads into a public bathroom. The bathroom is mostly empty, except for a woman wiping her toddler's nose. She closes the stall door, and hangs her backpack on the hook. She pulls out the box, and hesitantly reads the directions. Several moments later, she stands in the stall, staring at her wristwatch. She shifts her glance to the plastic stick in her hand. A bright pink plus sign stares back at her._

* * *

His eyes are locked on hers, as she sits next to him in silence. He wonders what she is thinking about. He realizes that she may never be able to tell him. Some things are too painful to share. It kills him to see her in so much pain. He waits for her to break the painful silence that has overtaken their home. He squeezes her hand, but she is somewhere else.

* * *

 _December 25_ _th_ _, 1998_

 _They place a brand new baby on her chest. Suddenly she feels like she can't breathe. She looks at the brand new baby, and he begins to wail. The new lifeform is covered in goo. His dark hair is matted, and she feels completely enveloped in fear. She exhales, and his name falls from her lips._

" _Kane." His wailing instantly stops, and he searches for her face, as the nurse vigorously rubs his back._

 _Hours later she is alone in her room with a brand new baby. The newborn lies in her arms, sound asleep. The reality hits her. She feels completely overwhelmed at the prospect of being responsible for another human being, when she can barely take care of herself. The baby begins to stir, and she unwraps him. She lays him against her chest, and he settles. She runs her fingers through his clean hair. She inhales his scent. He inserts his fingers into his mouth, and begins screaming. She grabs the bottle off the bedside stand, and inserts it into his mouth as she shifts him into her arms. He looks up at her. The tears come before she can stop them. Her index finger caresses the back of his tiny hand, that rests on his chest._

" _I'm sorry. I am so sorry."_


	8. Chapter 8

_December 26_ _th_ _, 1998_

 _He wants to run after her, but suddenly there is a baby in his arms. The newborn stares up at him, blankly. He notices the blue hospital issued diaper bag on his desk. He unzips the bag, and finds coupons, a bottle of formula, a handful of diapers, and a sample of wipes. In the front pocket he finds a note. The note is written on a napkin._

 _Kevin,_

 _This is Kane, Michael's son. Please take care of him, I can't. I wish that I could. Tell him that I am sorry, and that I love him. Keep him safe._

 _Kensi_

* * *

He clears his throat, "Kensi."

She looks up at him, "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh."

"We can talk about this later," he reminds her, "You should go talk to him."

"To who?"

"Your son."

"I am sure that he doesn't want to talk to me. I don't even know if he is aware that I exist."

"I am guessing he assumes he has a mother."

"I don't know what Michael told him about me," she explains.

"So find out."

"I…"

"You know they have lived in that neighborhood for twelve years."

"I never tried to find them. I knew that he was safe with him. I couldn't know where he was," she trails off.

"Why not?"

"Do you think that I could have stayed away? I would have ruined his life. Every single day I think about him. Every time I look in a mirror I wonder does he look like me? Does he need me? How could I just abandon him?" The tears stream down her face, "I worked hard not to be the person I was the day that I left him. I went back to school, and I worked hard. I finished high school on time, even though I was more than a year behind. I took so many classes, and I worked. I got scholarships, and I went to college. I didn't want it all to be for naught. I worked hard so…"

"So you would forget?"

She nods, "And I never could. Nothing I ever did was enough to forget. Every single day I wondered what he was doing, and if he was okay, but I knew that they would never let any harm come to him. I didn't want to go back after two years, or ten, and completely disrupt the only life he has ever known. That would be selfish, and he deserves more than that. He deserves more than me."

"You were a scared kid," he reminds her.

She shakes her head, "There is no excuse. I carried him for nine months, and then I walked away."

"You have to go talk to him."

"What would I say? What could I possibly say to him that would make any of this okay? Nothing would ever be enough."

"If you don't try it will eat you alive. Kensi, I can see that this is tearing you up inside."

"It doesn't matter what it is doing to me."

"Don't you think that he is out there wondering about you, too?"

She shrugs, "I don't know."

"Go talk to him," he implores

* * *

She stands on a front porch, and stares at the door. She feels as if she is frozen in fear. Her mind races at a million miles an hour. She feels as if her heart might beat out of her chest. What if he is home? What will she say? What if he isn't? What if he answers the door? What if he doesn't want to see her? She raises her hand to knock, her courage quickly dissipates, and she retracts it. The door suddenly comes open. A tall lanky teenager steps onto the porch. She takes a step back, and says nothing.

"We were in there taking bets about how long it would take you to knock. I didn't want to lose, so I just came out."

She still doesn't respond. He closes the door. He points to a chair sitting on the front porch.

"You should have a seat," he suggests.

She nods in agreement, and takes a seat on the seat in front of the window. He situates himself on the porch swing, which is adjacent to her chair.

"First of all, you should know that I don't bite, anymore, at least. I haven't bitten anyone since I was two."

"Good to know."

"I assumed that you were here for me."

"Do you always assume that when a federal agent comes to your door?"

He grins, "Only when she is responsible for giving me life," he answers.

Her anxiety slowly begins to decrease, "I see."

"You have never been a secret," he tells her, "My dad would tell me about you. When I got older, and started asking more questions my dad didn't know what to say. Luckily, for me I live in the age of technology. Your name is on my birth certificate, so I just searched your name."

"I'll be honest, I don't know what to say."

"I am older now than you were when you had me," he points out.

She nods, "You are."

"I can't imagine having a kid. We had to take care of a fake baby for this class I took, and I did not fare well. What I am saying is, I understand."

She shakes her head, "There is no excuse. I made a mistake."

"Did you? I am a happy, well-adjusted human being. I have always had food in my belly, and more love and attention than is natural."

"I am sorry. I don't want you to think that I left you because I didn't want you."

He grins, "I know that," he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small picture frame, with a tattered napkin inside. He holds it up for her to see.

Her heart sinks, "You still have that?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He smiles, "Because you loved me."


	9. Chapter 9

Michael, and his daughter slip out the front door. Kensi looks to Michael for guidance, but he just smiles, and tosses his daughter the car keys.

"You're driving," he tells her.

"Daddy! I can't reach the pedals," she giggles as she races off the front porch.

"Soon," he grins.

Kane points to the door, "Come inside."

She nods in agreement, and follows the teenager into the house. He leads her into a living room, and suggests the couch. She agrees. He stands next to the couch, smiling.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you."

He nods, and takes a seat next to her. He opens one of the drawers on the coffee table, and pulls out a scrapbook. He scoots a hair closer to her, and places the blue scrapbook on her lap. He opens the cover, and finds his name written in feminine handwriting.

"My step mom made this for me, when she married my dad. She called it my story, and every so often she would add to it," he explains.

"She sounds wonderful."

"She was," he turns the page.

She stares at the pictures on the first page, and is surprised to see herself. She is standing in a backyard, next to Michael. He is wearing his uniform, and she is in a black t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a pair of Chuck Taylor's. He quickly picks up on her facial expression.

"You didn't think that you would be in here?"

She shakes her head, "I forgot that your uncle took that picture," she admits.

He flips to the next page, and she sees a baby picture of him. She notices the buttons on his onesie are miss-fastened.

He smiles, "I don't think uncle Kevin knew what he was doing."

Kensi lifts her butt off the couch. She reaches into her back pocket, and pulls something out.

"I have a couple you can add," she tells him, offering a couple of pictures to him.

He takes the pictures from her. They are copies of polaroid pictures. He smiles, seeing a picture of himself in his basinet at the hospital. He flips to the next picture, and finds a picture of him asleep in her arms.

"When I was pregnant with you I was working for a catering company. I was waiting on this couple, and the woman asked me if I had a camera. I told her I didn't. I thought that she wanted me to take a picture of her with her husband. She very abruptly left the table. I thought that I had offended her, so I left. She found me a few minutes later. I guess she had gone to her car. She was getting ready to take some things to a thrift store. Her daughter left for college, and in the process she put a few items in the box. She gave me the camera, and a roll of film."

"Shouldn't you have been in school?"

She nods, "I most certainly should have."

"Why weren't you?"

"It doesn't matter," she insists.

"You should have been in school," he points out.

"My father died, when I was fifteen. I was devastated. I ended up living on the streets for a while," she admits.

"Because of me?"

She shakes her head, "No. You were not involved in that decision making process. To be honest you weren't even a twinkle in my eye at that point."

He opens another drawer on the coffee table, and pulls out a roll of tape. He secures the two photographs to the page. He turns the page. She studies each page. They move from infancy into toddlerhood, onto preschool, and every first day of school after that. She finds pictures of birthdays, holidays, and sporting events. There are pictures of him at Michael's wedding. There is a picture of him asleep in Emily's arms. One picture shows him on top of his dad's shoulders at the beach. They reach the back of the book, and she finds a senior picture.

"You shouldn't be a senior until next year," she points out.

"I am too smart for my own good, so I skipped preschool. Dad always says I was born with a book in my hand."

She grins, "I do recall that. I think you were reading Moby Dick," she jokes.

"It is a classic. I am graduating next month, and going off to college."

"Off to college?"

"By off to college I mean USC."

"Not the marine corp?"

"I have a full ride to USC on a football scholarship."

"Really?""

"Yup I am a running back. I am also a state finalist in archery."

"Football, and archery?"

"I am also on the debate team."

"I also hear you make a mean batch of chocolate chip pancakes."

He shrugs, "Guilty as charged."

"Any other hobbies, or activities I should know about?"

"Marksmanship, and geocaching."

"Did you take the ASVAB?"

"Recruiters have been beating down the door, but that isn't the kind of life that I want. I just want to be in one place. If I want adventure I can go on vacation."

She stares into the boy's sapphire eyes. She turns the conversation in a more serious direction.

"I am so sorry that I missed all of it. I missed everything."

"You're here now."

"Aren't you angry?"

"I was for a while. I couldn't understand why you weren't around. I thought that maybe it was something that I did."

"It wasn't."

"I know that."

"How did you overcome it?"

"I wanted to know where I came from. I found out where you were years ago. One day when I was eleven I made it my mission to see you. My father refused to let that happen, without your knowledge, or consent. One day I convinced my uncle to take me to a coffee shop in your neighborhood. I told him we were on a recon mission, and he played along. You came in, and got your coffee, and never noticed me. I just wanted to see you in person. When I got home I was upset, so my dad suggested that I do something to make me feel close to you. That is when I started working on marksmanship."

"I saw you. Your uncle was hiding behind the newspaper, sitting next to you on a booth, with his boots sticking out in the aisle way. You were watching out the window. You must have seen me get into my car."


	10. Chapter 10

"Kane, it is okay if you are angry with me. It is understandable. It was unfair of me to walk out of your life."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," she agrees.

"Why didn't you ever try to find me?"

"When you were a baby I lived a life that wasn't suitable for a child. Late on, it was more than that. One day I was in the grocery store, and I saw a little boy who would have been about your age, he was maybe three. I looked at him, and I realized something. I realized that it was best if I didn't know where you were. If I knew where you were I would want to have you with me, and that wasn't fair. I knew by then you were securely attached to your dad, and that he was completely capable of taking care of you. I knew that he had the kind of stability that you needed. It wasn't fair for me to walk into your life when you were three, or six, or thirteen, and throw your entire world into chaos."

"I missed you," he confesses as the smile disappears from his face.

"I know," she returns.

"How could you know?"

"Because I could feel it."

"Kensi, I don't expect you to become a part of my life. I am not asking for that."

"You shouldn't have to. I have made a lot of mistakes in my life, and the biggest one was not being around for you."

"Was I a mistake?"

She furrows her brow, "Why would you say that? Is that what you think? Has someone told you that?"

"I am just asking, no one has ever said that. I mean you were sixteen when I was born, and my dad was only nineteen. You were both kids."

"I will fully admit that you were totally one hundred percent unplanned, and unexpected, but I never felt like you were a mistake. I just knew that I couldn't take care of you. I wanted you to be with someone who could, and who would want to. Your dad was always a better homemaker than I could ever dream about being."

"He cooks for an army," he adds.

"That isn't the first time I have heard that."

"Why didn't you try to make it work with him?"

"He was being deployed, and I didn't want to be a burden to anyone. I was afraid of losing someone else, I guess. I didn't know that I was pregnant. I would have told him if I had."

"You should stop letting the past hold you back," he advises.

"What makes you say that?"

"Have you ever been married?"

"No."

"Do you have any other children?"

"No."

"You made the right choice. My dad is the most natural father I have ever seen. I used to laugh at the other kids on the playground, because their dads couldn't make lasagna, or buy groceries, and they sure as heck didn't know which Band-Aids to buy. He is one unique guy. Do you know that he braids my sister's hair before she goes to t-ball practice? What guy does that?"

"You know what he told me?"

He shrugs, "Hm?"

"I asked him what his dreams were, and I expected to hear him say that he wanted to be a general, or president, or something of that nature."

"What did he say?"

"I want to get to be home every night with my family. I want to cook my family dinner, and tuck my kids into bed each night. When he grew up your grandfather was married to his job, and he wasn't around a lot."

"What else did he tell you?"

"He jokingly told me that he wanted to name his son Simba, so he could be the lion king. We were young," she reminds him.

"Is that why you gave me the middle name Leonardo?"

"Who says that I named you?"

"My father asserts that if he had chosen my name it would have been Simba."

"Which is precisely why he couldn't name you. Simba is no name for a boy. Can you imagine your first day of preschool, or college with the name Simba?"

"Luckily his second child as a daughter, so she couldn't be named Simba. If you notice, there is a dog lying around here somewhere. I assume he is outside, because he's not licking your face. His name is Simba."

"What is your expectation of this?" Kensi inquires.

"I have no expectations. You have a life…"

She cuts him off, "I don't want you to ever think that my job, or my life is more important than you. It's not. I have made choices that lead me on a path away from you, and that is my fault. I can't turn back time, and I certainly do not know the best way to move forward. I have very little maternal instinct. With all of that being said, I would like to participate in your life, if you would allow it."

"I would allow it," he agrees.

"I want you to be comfortable. The ball is in your court. You call the shots. I will give you my number, and you can call me."

"Fair enough," he agrees.

She rises from the couch, and turns to leave. He stands up, blocking her path to the door. He smiles, and shakes his head, "Not so fast."

She furrows her brow. He steps forward, and she grins. She wraps her arms around the six foot two football player. He hugs her back.


	11. Chapter 11

She sits at her desk after midnight on a Saturday. She sits there, reflecting. She knows that she is avoiding going home. She doesn't quite know how to move forward. She finishes filling out a time off request. She looks up, when she hears footsteps moving towards her. She finds Hetty standing at the edge of her desk. She shakes her head.

"What are you doing here, Hetty?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Miss Blye," she responds.

"I am just filling out a time off request."

"May I ask why you are doing that on a Saturday night, when you could be anywhere, but here?"

"I just needed a minute."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be."

"Is this about yesterday's case?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"I don't know how to offer an explanation," Kensi replies.

"Just tell the truth."

"But the truth is harsh," she admits.

Hetty smirks, "It always is."

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Have you known all of this time where they were?"

* * *

 _December 27_ _th_ _, 1998_

 _She sits on a park bench with her knees to her chest. She clenches her jaw hoping the pain will dissipate. She looks up, and suddenly someone is standing in front of her._

" _Are you okay?" A petite woman asks her._

" _Fine," she lies._

" _What is your name?"_

" _Kensi," she introduces herself._

" _How old are you?"_

" _Sixteen," she admits, too tired to lie._

" _You should be in school," Hetty comments._

" _I should be a lot of things," she retorts._

 _Hetty notices the picture lying next to her. It is a picture of a newborn lying in a basinet. His name, and information is written on the white portion of the photo._

" _My name is Henrietta, would you like a place to stay?"_

* * *

She shakes her head, "No. I found out the same time that you did."

"You never bring it up," Kensi points out.

"I figured that when you were ready you would mention it. You never offered details, so I didn't probe."

"Sometimes I feel like I have lived two lives. One life that people see, and understand. I am an NCIS agent, and a trained sniper. I am a woman in a workplace full of men. I am a trained sniper. I don't lose my cool very often. Sometimes, I still feel like that scared kid sitting on a park bench wondering how to take care of another human being, when I couldn't even take care of myself. It follows me everywhere I go, and I never talk about it. I can never come up with the right words to explain. When I do…" she trails off.

"Every one of us has walked through hard times. All of us have had to make decisions that we didn't want to."

She shakes her head, "Not like this." She swallows hard.

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

"How can I not? I hid the truth for an entire lifetime. I robbed someone of having a mother. I…"

"Do you think that he would be the same person today if you had raised him in the streets?"

"No."

"Do you think he has a better life, because of the sacrifice that you made?"

"Unequivocally."

"You chose him, instead of choosing yourself, and that is something people will understand."

"But it doesn't do anything for the guilt. I went about it the wrong way. I could have finished school, and gotten established, and then chosen to be part of his life. Instead, I was selfish. I missed his entire childhood. I hate myself for not being there for him."

"Miss Blye you are never going to get that time back. All you can do is use the time that you have now. You cannot go back in time. The only way this works is if you move forward."

"He is this absolutely incredible young man, and I have nothing to do with it."

"Do you truly believe that?"

"I should get home," she tries to end the conversation.

"If you live in a place of bitterness, and anger it will get you nowhere. Embrace the choices that you have made, and deal with the consequences with the skills that you have now. If you live in the past it will drag you backwards."

* * *

When she gets home she finds Marty passed out on the couch. She finds a shoebox sitting in front of him on their coffee table. She leans forward, and plants a kiss on his cheek. He opens his eyes, and shifts into a sitting position.

"I am sorry that I kept you waiting."

He points to the cushion next to him, "Sit."

She takes a seat next to him. She begins talking before he gets the chance, "Deeks I want to apologize for the way that I told you about all of this. I feel like I dropped a bomb and walked out, leaving you to deal with the aftermath. I should have told you. I understand if you feel like we can't move forward. We have discussed marriage, and I don't feel as if it is fair for you to be with someone who invested something into a relationship, and didn't tell all of the truth. I have no excuses. I made a mistake. I have made a lot of mistakes."

He interrupts her rambling, "Just stop."

"If you don't want to talk about this anymore I understand."

"Stop! Just listen!"

She nods in agreement, "Okay."

"I love every part of you. I love every single piece of you. My only regret is that you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth."

She shakes her head in disagreement, "That isn't why I didn't tell you. I trust you with every fiber of my being. I just… I didn't trust myself."

"I want to move forward with you, whatever that means."

"I can't make up for lost time," she says on the verge of tears.

He kisses her forehead, "I know."

"All of those years ago I placed my newborn baby into the arms of his uncle, and I walked away. He is seventeen years old now. I missed everything."

He grins, "No you didn't."

She furrows her brow, "What are you talking about?"

"While you were out, Michael stopped by."

"I am so sorry."

"Don't be. He dropped off those," he points to the box.

"A new pair of shoes?"

"Home video of your son. He also told me that if you want to go through any of the photo albums, or his mementos all you have to do is let him know."

"Oh."


End file.
